The Very Secret Diary Of Miss Harley Quinn
by Locked Heart Ami
Summary: DISCONTINUED. When you're in maximum security at Arkham, there's not much to do besides keep a journal. For the first time available to the public, here is The Very Secret Diary Of Miss Harley Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

May 16, 2006

Today I'm in Arkham, in which way today is quite a bit like yesterday. Which was sorta remarkably similar to the day before that. I've gotta say that, on the replay value scale, Arkie's about a minus five outta ten. And that's not even counting group therapy. Man, the head psychologist has a total Oedipal complex. I could psychoanalyze any of the chumps they got working here under the table.

The worst thing about ole Arkie, though, is that whenever I come back, I never get the same cell I had when I left. This is, like, my home away from home (home being Mr J!). You know what I mean? This different-cell-every-time business is kinda like having a different bedroom every time you come home for the holidays, only in this case home features electroshock therapy (which I admit makes me feel nicely tingly) and Freudian analysis (and don't even get me started on that! Total gross-out.) I asked my doctor if he could move me back into my old cell, seein's how I'm in here so often, but he said he didn't think having a permanent residence in Arkie would be sending me the right message about my chances for recovery. I explained about the HARLEY LOVES MR J I carved into the wall, but he remained unmoved.

Oh, pooh. It took me three weeks and I'm kinda suspecting that Red- that's who he says got the room right now- isn't gonna appreciate my DELICATE ARTISTIC SUBTLETIES as much as I do. The cell I got now kinda smells funny, and I think Magpie musta had it before me, cause I keep on finding little tinfoil balls hidden in the mattress. Man, this sucks! I don't even have Outside Privileges yet, which means until I'm allowed to work in the garden, no consolations from Red. Blaaah.

If I don't write tomorrow, so you know, I unfortunately probably will still be in Arkham.

LOVE, HARLEY


	2. Chapter 2

May 17

Yeah. Still in Arkham. Had high hopes that Mr J would come in on a motorcycle and whisk me away into the night, but it didn't happen. Actually, Mr J doesn't even have a motorcycle, which kinda puts some holes in that rescue plan, don't it? Man, I hate it here. I hope Mr J's goons are feeding Cerberus and Fenrir. If they're not, the poor babies are liable to take a chunk outta someone's leg as they walk by, and I'm not there to warn the little darlings that that ain't good for hyenas. Blaaaah.

Started group therapy today for like the twentieth time. Group therapy means that, if I'm still here in about five days, I'll get outside privileges with Red. I'm kinda looking forward to that, especially if we get garden duty. She makes the plants do funny things under your clothes when the guards ain't looking.

In the meantime, though, it's group therapy. Without Red. Sigh. I do get it with Prof Crane, though, which is always nice because we're both ex-doctors, and I feel very much that we UNDERSTAND each other. Have a certain CONNECTION. At least, when he's not ranting about being the Warlord of Phobiatology, which he keeps insisting is a real word, but I don't believe him. He gave me a lollipop when Dr Jung was outta the room, though, which was really nice of him. There was a spider inside it but I ate it anyway; kinda worried about not getting enough protein from this prison food. Dr Crane seemed sorta disappointed. I think he kinda wanted me to scream or something. Next time he sneaks up behind me and yells I'll have to act scared (even though I can always hear him coming; guy's a klutz).

Aside from Scarecrow, G.T.'s also got Killer Croc (who wins the award for most uncreative villain name, but you can't blame him, his brain's the size of a kumquat), Two-Face (EWWWWW!), and Riddler. Riddler's rooming with Magpie, which means he'll get out on good behavior as soom as he fesses up where she's hiding the guard's belt buckles. Lucky duck. Anyway, I'm the only girl, which I thought would mean lotsa attention, but so far no come-ons. Kinda disappointing. I mean, of course I'm gonna be faithful to my puddin, but it's nice to feel like a WOMAN. Especially when your uniform makes you look like a sack of potatoes and your hair sticks out kinda funny from the shock treatments.

Dr Jung tried to do a session on the importance of no using a mask to hide who you are, but Two-Face and Killer Croc got really upset cause they can't take off their masks. Which isn't a really big deal from Two-Face (OH MY GAWD PENNIES, THROW ONE AT ME IN THE SAME PLACE 2000 TIMES AND I MIGHT START TO BRUISE) but when Killer Croc's mad he sorta starts to tear things apart. So Dr Jung ended therapy early. Kinda stupid session to do with a group containing Killer Croc, anyway, when you think about it.

Now I'm back in my cell with NOTHING to do. Man, it's so frustrating when you're a better psychiatrist than half the people analyzing you. I'm so bored and I think we got green jello for dessert tonight. Yuuuuuuuck.

LOVE HARLEY


	3. Chapter 3

May 18, 2006

Mr B came in today. Mmm. Every once in a while I wonder why I didn't kill him that time I had him suspended over an aquarium full of piranhas (I mean, besides the fact that Puddin' accidentally shoved me and I fell through the window before I could lower the rope. I'm such a klutz). Anyway, I wonder why I didn't finish him off then, and I get kinda confused. And then I'll be stewing away in Arkham like an unfinished gumbo and he'll breeze by with the Mad Hatter (it's always the Mad Hatter for some reason) and I'll REMEMBER why I didn't kill him. BECAUSE HE HAS A JAW LIKE CARVED MARBLE AND ABS YOU COULD GRATE CHEESE ON. Now, don't get me wrong! I'm Scarlett-O-Hara faithful to my Puddin, but you gotta admit something about Mr B makes a girl's ovaries ache a little.

I kinda have a suspicion he's a porn star in real life. I mean why else would he be so ashamed to tell everyone who he is, unless he'd lose all kindsa respect, ya know? Plus, there's the preferential treatment of skintight leather and spandex, not to mention the occasional underwear-outside-the-pants (depending on his costume). Not to mention his affinity for harboring adolescent houseboys in green tights. Plus, him and Superman act mighty familiar. It's not all just business with them, you know what I'm saying? And don't forget that time I knocked him out and dragged him to the Gotham Aquarium, as previously mentioned; moving that slow leaves lotsa room for inspection and let ME tell YOU, guy's WELL-HUNG. Although thinking back on it, maybe I shoulda been taking off his mask and paying a little less attention to his pelvicular regions. Oh well WHAT'S DONE IS DONE, and it is my professional opinion as a one-time doctor that Bats is working the BLUE FILMS.

Mmm, kinda puts a different light on all those times he tackled me and tied me up.

Anyway, turns out Mr B made the trip to Arkie to see little ole me! I gave him a big hug which he did NOT return (I guess all our past experiences together mean NOTHING to that cold, unfeeling rodent). And then I asked him what was up. And he said The Jig. Which I thought was pretty funny, especially from Bats, until I realized he was serious.

So he's all very somber and businesslike- Mr J woulda been so unimpressed- and sits me down and wants me to tell him all bout my puddin. Says he got word through the grapevine (bats have grapevines?) that Mr J is working on something BIG, really really BIG, but all he could scare out of the goon of Mr J's he caught is that it somehow involves Red. (Wonder which goon it was. Bet it was the fat one. I never did like him, and he can't run very fast anyway.) Then he asks me what I know about it. Well, I hold firm! I don't tell him ANYTHING about it! Wicked Bats, thinking he can sweep in here with his cheddar cheese abs and cause a girl to blab all over the place. Still, though, I say NOTHING! Partly because I've got no idea what he's talking about, but MOSTLY just outta sheer loyalty to my puddin.

But then Bats tells me that if I give him any information, he'll get me Outside Privileges early, without sitting through a week of psychoanalysis with Killer Croc. Bad weak pushover Harley is… slightly swayed, especially when he tells me he'll also get me back into the HARLEY LOVES MR J cell. I tell ya, Bats really knows how to appeal to a girl's sensibilities. I don't know the kind of info he wants, of course, but I mention I went to sleep with Ivy after Mr J justifiably kicked me out. (Bats' eyebrows went all up at that, which is was pretty funny-looking under his mask. I don't know what he thought I was implying!) Anyway, I explain, since then Mr J and Red haven't been very friendly. Mr B rolls his eyes and mutters something about a bizarre love triangle, which can't be right, cause that's an X-Men series and this is real life.

Anyway, I guess I wasn't very much help, but Mr B Thanks Me For My Cooperation regardless! I hugged him goodbye and he didn't hug me back, AGAIN, which is just plain rude. Still, though, he didn't tell the orderlies to get me offa him, so maybe we're making progress.

So now it's seven and my cell number still hasn't been changed. Meaning I'm still in the tinfoil cell. BLAAAAH to Mr B. Still, the guards did tell me that tomorrow I get garden duty with Red, so I guess I can't get that mad.

Maybe Bats'll have to come back For More Information. He might even bring the Boy Wonder. Those green tights ain't hard on these ole peepers either.

LOVE HARLEY


	4. Chapter 4

May 19

Heeeeeey! Ole Bats coulda saved his Outside Privileges Brownie Points, cause I never got a chance to use em- my Puddin snuck in and broke me out last night right after I'd finished writing (and was pulling tinfoil balls out from between my sheets). I heard this little voice going "HARley, HARley", and I figured it was just Sewer King- his cell is across from mine and he's taking to bugging me when he can't sleep. So anyways I'm all "Shut up, Sewer"- just a second before I realize this is NOT Sewer King's voice, this is a voice I'd recognize ANYWHERE! "Mr J!" I exclaim joyfully.

"Shut up, you idiot!" he snarls back. Oh, how I've missed that sweet and tender voice!

Turns out he's trying to break us out quiet-like. It almost works, too, but then Sewer King DOES wake up to bother me, and seems not to take kindly to the notion of me not being around to bother. So then it's your standard duck-and-run from the guards, although Mr J does manage to nail a few of them (with great style puddin, I may add!) and in eventuality we're speeding away in a getaway car. By this time stupid Arkie's evidently already called GCPD, and they've got the Batsignal up, but luckily me and my puddin have such a head start that I bet when Bats arrived at Arkie, they couldn't even remember which way we went. Poor ole Mr B probably just paced broodingly for a few minutes and grabbed the nearest convict by the collar. Seems to be his standard procedure when he can't think of anything else to do. Lot of people actually seem to find it comforting- I guess they figure that if anyone is that pace-y and brood-y, he's surely formulating an unbeatable plan.

Silly Bats. He probably just goes home and watches the Late Show in his well-hung porn star apartment.

Anyway, Mr J and I make it home scot-free (and not only are we free of Scottish people, we're free of Bats, too.) The Goons are waiting for us. I guess it was the fat one who tipped Bats off, since he's no longer here and the other Goons seem really jumpy. Still, one of them did bring out my diamante mask for me. I forgot how considerate Mr J's hired help is. They may be lackeys, but they're OUR lackeys!

I change into my work clothes and feed Cerby and Fenny, who ARE looking a little peaked, poor babies! (Speaking of, I'm glad to be back with Mr J. He only feeds me when he's in the mood, and I was getting a tummy from all those Arkham potato entrees.) Once that's all done, I'm kinda tired and I feel like going to bed, but Mr J's got a coupla things he wants me to do. Nothing big, just all the dishes and laundry from those days I was in jail. Bless his heart, he couldn't figure out how to use the machines. Once I did that, and also cleaned the floor (which I must say was FILTHY, the Goons musta been wearing their muddy work boots in the house while I was away) me and Mr J sat down for a bit. He bought a bottle of Sourpuss for us to drink after his daring rescue! My puddin is just SO considerate. So, anyway, after the nookie and Sourpuss (both of which were great!) I find that I've gotta ask the obvious question- "Puddin," I say, "While I appreciate the daring rescue, what gives? You've never been in such a hurry that you couldn't wait for me to get paroled before."

He turns that adorable smile on me and my heart melted like a pat of butter. "Simple, Harley," he grins, "I'm just about to launch a marvelous new scheme- but the preparations are a two-person job." Turns out that whatever he wants to do, he needs this rare flower for- Pica Rosea. Evidently the only place in Gotham State that has a sample is Toxic Acres- you know, Red's greenhouse.

So tomorrow, I'm off to Toxic Acres to find some Pica Rosea for my Puddin. Tonight, though, I'm off to find my Puddin (in bed). Niiiiight!

LOVE HARLEY


	5. Chapter 5

May 20, 2006

MAJOR horrible panic today. I've only been here twenty-four hours and I've managed to get Mr J upset at me. I'm just no good for anything. See, this morning, I wake up to the un-lovely sound of much muffled crashing downstairabouts. I run down there as fast as I could, thinking maybe Cerby and Fenny'd gotten loose and was attacking The Goons- only to find Mr J throwing all my stuff around, including the box with all my CDs in it. It's also the box that usually has my diary in it, but it didn't this morning, on account of the fact that it was in Mr J's hand. I was scared he was going to start ripping the pages out or something, but when he looked in my direction he luckily threw it at me instead.

"Puddin!" I wailed. (I started picking up my CDs too, but they were all broken, including my Mary Prankster and the Sex Pistols. Pooh.) "What's the matter, Puddin? Did I do something?"

He stopped in mid destruction-of-property and pointed accusingly at YOU, diary. "So the Bat-boob has cheese-grater abs, does he?" he yelled. "It wasn't enough for you to call them washboard, they had to be cheese-grater! And not only is that not funny at all, but I didn't see anything about MY abs in there." And you know, my puddin was right. It was a GREVIOUS oversight. So I write it down now, for all of posterity; Mr J has the best abs, legs, chest, chin, and the SWEETEST smile known to all mankind. I am the sometime-girlfriend of a sex god.

I managed to calm Mr J down with a minimum of further destruction (not that he wasn't perfectly right to be upset) and once he was through yelling at me and pulling me around by the cowl, I managed to get you, diary, back from him after promising I would refer to the hyenas as Bud and Lou (I guess they are better names than Cerberus and Fenrir, even if they aren't my favorites) and to talk about the appeal of my Prince of Puns more often. It's a fair cop.

So once my puddin was his lovable self again, we sat down and he explained a little more about the Pica Rosea. It's this rare Spanish rose that contains one of the key ingredients of his Joker Toxin. Red's got the only one in the US of A. The Gotham City Botany Fair is being held on June 1, and Mr J's bought us a booth. I ask him why, botany not really being his bag; he explains that Pica Rosea LOOKS just like a normal rose, and he's going to sell it in corsages and boutonnières at the fair. Then he'll have one of the Goons spray the other key ingredients from a helicopter, and everyone wearing the Pica Rosea will be INSTANTLY afflicted with a joker smile while we run amok, grabbing all valuables!

Sometimes I wonder where he thinks up these plans. If I was the brains of the operation, I'd be liable just to get a bunch of Goons with guns surround people in a kind of high-profile but more-or-less simple mass mugging. Mr J sure got the brain of a genius; the scientific world lost a great man when he turned to crime! Anyway, I've just stopped off for a cappuccino on the way to Toxic Acres, but I better be moving along. I'll probably have to break in, since Red's still at Arkie, which is always fun as long as the cops don't notice. I wonder how Mr B would react if he saw me breaking in to Ivy's? Is it still break-and-enter when it's being done to another crook?

LOVE HARLEY


End file.
